


Swan Law

by 35grams (caxxe), queenofcats



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bakery, Burglary, Gifts, Law School, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caxxe/pseuds/35grams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofcats/pseuds/queenofcats
Summary: Levi cases a flat with nothing worth taking. Erwin trades swans with a ghost.Erwin: 35gramsLevi: queenofcats





	1. Chapter 1

 

Phone buzzes, wakes him up. Still not used to living away from Kenny, the ice cold fear of him hanging over his head like a banner.

Kenny is the one who's texting him, though, so it's not like he's escaped completely.

'Call me.' he says.

Levi calls him.  
  


Empty apartment on the nicer side of town, some old guy died and left it behind. No one's claimed it, surprising since he was dead rich.   
Now he's just dead.

Levi doesn't want to move, doesn't want to do anything right now. But Kenny has a hold on him like no one else does. Pain means nothing until he's made his uncle proud.

Floor plans are easy to find in libraries, especially in towns like this. Every room is memorised, but no words because Levi doesn't know how. Numbers aren't easy on him either, mixes up 0 and 8, and 3 and 2, and the order he never gets right. Count to ten, therapist said, count to ten when you're angry.   
Count in five breaths, hold for one, exhale for three, if you're anxious.

No wonder he's fucked up now.  
  


On the way there, on the bus (filthy thing that it is) he holds a local newspaper, pretends to read. He sees a picture of some kids, turns over. Sees a house for sale, turns over. Same old, same old shit.

"You Levi?" Voice cuts in like a knife - Levi thinks of the one in his pocket, of blood. He's in pain.   
"Depends who's asking." Eyes the person up, greasy hair and wild expression. Thick glass goggles - or is it just a thick layer of dust?

"You're Isabel's brother. I'm her datemate."

"Hange." Isabel won't shut up about them.

They beam. "That's right." A hand thrust in his face, he gingerly shakes it. Gross sweaty hands but a good firm grip.

The bus journey isn't so bad after that.  
  


Hange tells him a lot.

Tells him they live there, tells him a lot of other students also live there because it's close to college. 

Tells him that the guy who lived in the apartment (number thirteen - a line and a squiggle) was one of the rare non-students who lived there, tells him they know Kenny.

Even lets him into the building, no questions asked, and they say goodbye without touching him.

They're perfect.  
  


Isabel is pleased her brother (not biologically - bad genetics, they both say, and Farlan too) gets along with Hange. Invites him to see the band they're in with a dude called Mike, more of a duo though - drum and bass with a manager who's pretty darn good looking apparently.

Levi has more important things to think of than a shitty band, though.

Like the whole next month, needs to be spent casing the apartment, checking there's no one there and plenty of money.

Like the sneaking suspicion he has that he left his bedroom light on (he checked four times but it's possible).

Like the pain in his stomach - does he have enough money for painkillers?  
  


Night falls, all he needs is a bed and something to keep him occupied; TV is perfect for that.

Kenny calls again.

 

 

-

 

 

Mrs. Penny's Pomeranian was barking again. Erwin knew it was her because it was five past four in the morning, and that was precisely when Georgina Merryweather Penny the Third commenced her yapping sonnets with such dedication that one would be forgiven for thinking the performance was broadcast live from Madison Square Garden. Every night.

He'd slept enough, anyway. An hour was more than enough. He'd had five the day before. A luxury.

A collection of joints whined and popped as he sat up from the sleeping bag in the middle of the studio flat with some difficulty. Maybe – possibly – he should set a periodic alarm to remind himself to check his own posture whenever he studied the property casebook. And the torts casebook. And the hornbooks. Really, all of them. The scratchy blanket pooled at his feet as he stood. It only takes two or three long strides to cross the length of the flat, but he resisted the siren song of crawling to his books in favor of trying to stretch the crick out of his back. He gave it up when he'd nearly thrown out his back.

Erwin grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag – his one bag – and made one false start out of the flat and out to the communal bathroom with nothing on his feet before doubling back and shoving them into a pair of ratty sandals. He stepped lightly. The plastic thong on the left one kept coming loose.

He switched on the small metal lamp when he returned, and folded his sleeping bag until he could only barely feel the chilled floorboards beneath it. Beyond the window, car tires squealed against pavement. Georgina stopped barking.

Erwin propped the sleeping bag against a wall and checked his calendar on his phone. He'll need to read fifty pages of property cases before the eight o'clock seminar. Thirty for criminal law at eleven. He'll need to miss the history seminar to pick up an extra shift from Nile at Lily's bakery down the street. Week one. Out of all the advice and well wishes he'd received, no one thought to tell Erwin that law school blurred the lines between undergrad and kindergarten. 

The charcoal suit that hung opposite him by a nail driven into the peeling wall was too stiff to be troubled by the draft snaking its way down Erwin's spine. He'd walked away from the pawn shop at the owner's ridiculous offer. He'd only worn it once. He'd only ever meant to wear it once.

His stomach growled. Exchanging the thing for a week's worth of frozen dinners was starting to sound sensible.

He couldn't remember when predawn pitch became morning blue. The bookmark had moved forward two pages. The knot in his back hadn’t lessened. A pigeon landed on a windowsill – the only windowsill, for the only window – picked an offending downy feather out of one wing, and took off. He recognized the white plume on its chest. It visited his window every few mornings. It never stayed.

Erwin glanced at his calendar again. He'll need to get going soon. He'd promised to fix the leak in Mrs. Penny's sink before he left. Needed to stop by the new neighbors downstairs and give them their housewarming gift, some fancy all-in-one blender that nice employee insisted was the hot new thing. Apologize to the Jones's and ask if they might please send their son down for tutoring tomorrow morning instead.

Erwin dressed, heavy-limbed, and made his way out of the flat he'd made his home two weeks ago, assuming home was a word he could still understand. His hand glanced off the suit as he passed. It felt like white lilies, like a black casket. It felt like the leather framing a green stone that Erwin kept in his pocket but couldn't yet bring himself to wear. And when he passed the suit over the pawn shop counter, it felt like a stiff mourning wind.

 

 

-

 

 

Job done in three weeks, not as much money as promised. It never was. Kenny rewarded him with silence for a month.

Hange became a permanent fixture in his flat. They didn't care about anything aside from being able to ramble on about their studies - Levi hadn't been to school since he dropped out at sixteen. He liked the company, and Isabel liked their friendship.

One lazy afternoon, they were silent too. 

Sweaty palms cleaned the glass of their goggles, feet tapped to the sound of nervous energy buzzing like flies. 

Cold brassy metal clinked against his forehead. The silence broke.

"You know, don't you?" 

He picked his thumb, nodding slowly. "You blabbed about the apartment way too easily. Tell Kenny I don't need a babysitter." A pause. "What's he got on you, anyway?" His gruff voice made their face light up.

"You're worried about me, aren't you? How sweet! Don't worry, though, Levi, he's just funding me. I do specialist research as well as school, and I'm kinda poor, so he's helping me out. On the condition that I help you out too, of course." Their voice filled the room at a million miles an hour - still nervous.

He nodded again. "How much did he tell you 'bout me?" 

"Enough to know that we're going to be very good friends."

He wouldn't protest.

 

A month wasn't long enough. 

The white screen glowed on his face, made him ghostly in the dark.

"Another apartment?" Too much to ask of him. Last time he'd been in pain, that had made him weak to Kenny's will. But he didn't have pain this time, he had Hange. 

He called Kenny.

 

Same as last time, same as all the times before. This one was a ground floor apartment on the bad side of town, drug dealers and gunfights on every street corner. An exaggeration, but it was still grimy and rough. Not where he wanted to spend his week. Last time had taken a month, but only because it was high risk. A week was way too long for a place like this, but he had to be thorough. Hange assisted, apparently some of their research equipment came from round here - they had contacts.

Job done in a couple of days, the patterns easy to spot. Again, nowhere near as much as promised, bitter words spat down the phone didn't even get him more than five percent. Hange even double-checked he'd got the numbers right, and agreed that a hundred was a bit of a shitty deal. He got by as usual, though.

 

Next call was at three in the morning, Isabel told him so when he started yelling angrily down the phone - fuck off, leave me alone, I moved to get away from you.

Kenny assured him this one was different. They're all different. Levi didn't trust easily anymore.

 

Put his hood up anyway, though, headed out to check the address. It wasn't the best, but it wasn't pusher central like the last place. He didn't need plans this time either. He put his headphones in and crept like a shadow across to his next victim.

 

"One room mansion." Held in his breathing so the old lady didn't hear. But there wasn't an old lady. Once in through the window, it became clear there was a mistake. Not his, definitely not his. He wrote down the number and repeated it, double-checked it was the right one. There were only one or two windows per flat in the building, and he'd got the right one. Kenny's mistake, then.

"Ain't even a dog." 

Kenny had warned him about that - burglars don't go for places with animals usually, 'specially yappy little dogs like the one in the flat. But if anyone could do it, it was Levi. 

Shook his head as he gazed about the room. How pathetic. 

"Sleeping bag, blanket. You a kid or a grownup?" The question hung heavy in the stagnant air. Smelled like a man, so maybe he was a man-child. Could see the appeal of a sleepover every day, wouldn't judge. "Books, bag... Smart man-child, then, huh?"

Hange sprung to mind - poor college student. He didn't have pain this time, he had Hange.

Felt a receipt in his pocket and saw a pigeon on the window. 

"Here." He put a crinkled up origami bird on the flat section of the metal lamp. "He's helping them so they'll help me out, might as well carry on the chain. Next time I'll bring something better."

 

 

-

 

 

Erwin climbed up the steps, confident enough in the peeling, crumbling things that he dared not look at his feet for once. He slipped on the third step.

He reached his floor. Erwin busied one hand with the green stone in his coat pocket and fumbled for a key with the other. His hands shook. They hadn't stopped shaking since he left class. His phone hummed as he stepped inside his flat. He dropped his bag by the door and checked his texts. 

**Nanaba: way to stick it to that tenured blowhard**

Erwin's gut jolted. She must have just heard. They shared professors but not sections. He hadn't finished wondering how many others may have heard before his phone hummed again. 

**Nanaba: showing up Feldman in his own class? beautiful. someone uploaded it. 3k views already**

His heart hammered. He hadn't meant to make a scene. If Feldman hadn't looked like he so enjoyed forcing an overwhelmed student to describe the day's case readings and mocking her for missing the most inconsequential details for the better part of an hour, Erwin wouldn't have had to step in.

However he has to do it, he prepares for each day's readings. That includes outside reading. Learning whether the precedents established in a given case may have been affected by another months or years after the text was published was not required, but it only made sense. Feldman had the look of a man who lives and swears and dies by the book, and the temperament of one who brokers no time for anyone who doesn't do the same in the name of his chosen bible. Erwin gambled that he wasn't the sort to keep up with the minutia of thousands of cases as much as he liked to pretend. 

Feldman took the bait. Erwin snared him on the same sort of meaningless technicalities the man had just humiliated another student for missing not a minute prior. Naturally, Erwin was kicked out of the room. He received an email from the dean soon after that he still hadn't the nerve to open. 

In the time it took for the video to load, the viewcount had doubled. He didn't watch it. 

Something caught his eye. It hadn't been there when he'd left that morning. He knew, because he could count every individual thing in the crackerbox flat on one hand.

The thin paper crinkled at the press of his hand. He lifted the folded swan from the head of his lamp. He didn't know how to fold swans.

He looked over his shoulder as if the culprit would present himself then and there. 

**Erwin: very funny**

**Nanaba: what**

**Erwin: the bird**

**Nanaba: what bird**

**Erwin: did you come by earlier?**

**Nanaba: no? not like theres a fridge to raid : )**

**Erwin: hah. nvm**

He wasn't convinced. It was like her to pull something like this. Abusing the privileged information Erwin once volunteered about catching nightmares off a week of watching B-horror in his high school AV club was her M.O. before and it may as well be again.

The paper wrinkled easily. Turning the swan over, he recognized it for what it was: a receipt. He set it on the windowsill, dragged his bag over to the window, and pulled out his books. He didn't have time for this. He started his case readings. He looked up. He looked down. 

He looked up.

The mystery could be solved just by unfolding it. He put his books aside and took the swan again. Despite the crumpled look of it at first glance, every fold was aligned. Each one, perfectly creased. It'd be a shame to ruin it. The floorboards groaned as he settled in again. He'd have to remember the folds.

A fire truck passed outside. His fingers fumbled, too-large, as the siren blared. 

It was from a tea shop. He looked up the name. It was nearby. A good ten minute walk. Still, it doesn't tell him anything but that his mystery folder likes their loose leaf black teas. He folded it back up and placed it back on the windowsill. 

Moonlight spilled through the window before he looked up again. He closed his books. He'd been reading the same sentence over and over anyway. He unfolded the swan again. He paid close attention to the creasing this time, and eyed a folder of old case notes he didn't need anymore.

Erwin placed his first clumsy attempts on the windowsill the next morning, along with the first with its folds redone and its wrinkles pressed smooth. He hoped his pigeon didn't mind the redecorating as he left to meet with the dean. 

 

 

-

 

 

Sleep is easy, even when dreams are filled with axes in heads and molten iron poured on bare hands. Sleep means no worries about Kenny, no worries about the law, no worries about anything. 

"It's almost midnight. You've been asleep for ages." 

Eyes flick open, icy cold palms instinctively pull the covers tighter around him. 

He knows the voice, but still.

They cackle. "Relax, I'm not here to check out your naked body, although I am curious as to why you sleep in the nude, especially given... Well, anyway, I just wanted to check up on how it went. Kenny kinda wants to know too." 

"Fine." His voice is a pained groan, groggy from sleep. "Went fine."

"So, uh, where's the money?"

"'s no money. Kenny must'a made a mistake 'r somethin'..." Slurring like a drunk, how classy.

"Oh. I see." 

 

The next morning passes quickly outside the flats, he's people-watching on a creaky bench. More like avoiding countless missed calls and unread texts. 

An old lady - the original target- and dog, a kid and parents, a guy about his own age. They leave separately, of course, but within an hour of each other. 

His eyes drift up to the window of the flat after a few minutes of no-one to stare at. Something's different.

 

Just as empty and cold as it was last time, except for the paper on the window. Levi strains to keep the smile off his face as he eyes up the clumsy folds on the birds, examines each one closely.

"Not bad." 

Which one of them did this? Not the old lady, arthritic hands don't mix well with origami. Not the kid or his parents, this is a flat for one. The guy? He was tall, big hands too. Explains why he struggled with the details. 

One of them is his own, remade with slightly less finesse. Imagines big hands smoothing the receipt out, gently refolding it.

Levi takes the birds home. 

 

A week passes. He's busy, new houses to steal from, job interviews - boring shit that distracts him from something more interesting.

Decides to just go for it; there's a man in a flat that needs his help and he's been neglecting him. 

 

Dim fluorescent lights make him look sickly and pale, but if anything looking bad works in his favour here. Some of the staff in this store like him a little too much.

"Hey, Levi!" It's Petra, auburn hair and honey eyes, soft smile on her face. 

He grunts hello. 

"How're you doing?" She shuffles closer to him, he shuffles away. Cute, but not his type at all. 

"I need advice. I'm buying something for a friend." 

She looks a little confused at the mention of "a friend", but doesn't push it. Levi knows he won't leave empty-handed.

 

Maybe the man will just throw it out - no, he's poor, he wouldn't waste something so valuable. 

But people don't like charity, especially big things like this. It's not like it cost much, but it's sort of a necessity.

Hopefully he's sensible enough to forget whatever pride he has - Levi knows it's tough, but sometimes survival is more important. 

The air bed doesn't even take much space up when it's up, sleeping bag and blankets tucked around it. Levi couldn't help but make his bed for him. 

From his own experience, he knows they're pretty comfortable, so the man should be able to get plenty of use out of it. And there's no need for a pump, the pedal in the corner means it's self-inflating. 

It's perfect. Petra has good taste.

There's a pink post-it note in one of the books on the floor; it's open on the page so the place isn't lost.  

He makes a butterfly this time. Levi likes wings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin: 35grams  
> Levi: queenofcats

"Mike, please stop laughing."

Mike did not stop laughing.

Erwin went to his neighbors. The superintendent. Asked anyone who knew where he lived, even if not precisely how he lived. Nothing. Not unless one among them was a fantastic liar, and Erwin worried that he may be in the wrong profession if he couldn't spot a tell.

Mike's laugh was timed to each bounce on the air mattress of which Erwin was now, inexplicably, in possession. 

The super insisted that he hadn't come into his flat while he was out, insisted, too, that he can spare a minute to come and take a look. Erwin talked him out of it as graciously as he could and promised he wouldn't bother him again. He didn't tell the man that in addition to the mattress appearing where before, there was none, it was also perfectly tucked and made.

"You know, you've gotta be the first victim of a reverse robbery," Mike said. "Around here, anyway." He sat up, too perceptive. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," Erwin lied.

He laid on it that night, and turned over a folded butterfly in his hands. On an impulse, he fumbled in the dark for a pen and moved a folded edge into the moonlight. Erwin penned a simple  _Hello_ and felt not a little ridiculous. He should be calling the police. Setting up cameras. Writing a will, maybe. Small favors from faceless benefactors can rot overnight. This wasn't like him. 

He'd checked the thing for fleas, for mics, for cameras, for anything to prove that it was something other than what it was. Nothing. A bed was a bed was a bed. 

Erwin tossed on the first night. It was too soft. He tossed on the second night. He didn't sleep on it again. 

A storm limped by the city, so he took a different train. His usual route was prone to flooding. On the short walk to the station, he passed a youth shelter. His thoughts returned to a too-soft bed and a butterfly on his window. The next day, he brought one of them through its doors. 

 

-

 

Farlan's eyebrows are squished up on his face, two underweight caterpillars colliding with each other.

"What's up with you?" He's never sounded so concerned.

No reply. 

He puts a hand on Levi's shoulder. Makes him flinch.

"Shit, a warning'd be nice before you decide to feel me up!" 

Farlan shrugs. "Sorry, bud. You just seemed a little lost in a world of your own."

"'m pissed off." 

There's a pause - will he explain or won't he? - and then Levi speaks again.

"Fucking-- Fucking people... Some of 'em are so damn ungrateful." 

It's usually like this when something's wrong. Farlan knows he must be patient, allow everything to come out bit by bit.

"Spent my own hard-earned cash on some shitty blow-up bed 'cause I thought it was the right thing to do, and he fucking got rid of it." 

Levi swears, everyone does, but the frequency of each word is worrying. 

"Who is he?" Farlan asks. 

Silence.

 

Missed calls and unread texts clog up his phone. Levi keeps it in Hange's coat pocket. Whatever Kenny wants him to do can wait. 

Headphones in, hood up, the bench is cold and damp but it's worth it. Levi wants to know what this guy's problem is. 

Doesn't see him. 

Sees the inside of his flat again, though.

Smells mustier than usual, like more people've been in recently. Even with an average nose, it's easy to tell. In dumps like this, scents accumulate in a blink of an eye and they're all strong as a skunk.

Mattress is gone, as he already knew, everything's just as shit as usual. Pink catches his attention, only it ain't just pink anymore. 

"You writing to me, huh? Got the cheek to throw out my mattress, but you can say--" Stops short, doesn't know how to read. "Idiot." 

Flaming cheeks don't deter him from looking around for any other notes or  now defiled origami, wondering how he missed this when he came in last time and whether he missed more. 

There's nothing else important. 

A stray piece of paper lies under the window on the floor, been there for a while. Picks it up and examines it - indecipherable printed text, looks like Izzy's worksheets, looks important. 

Finds a permanent marker on the floor too. Messy, messy man. 

"Where's it gone, you ungrateful bastard?" he mutters as he draws on the blank side, draws an air mattress and a question mark. 

Black ink bleeds through to the text, but who gives a damn? Levi's feelings are hurt. 

 

 

-

 

Erwin had his phone in his hand. The number was dialed. He had only to call. 

He turned the note around in his hands. The police will scoff and write him up for wasting their time. He wouldn't blame them. Even he, still, couldn't believe what he'd gotten himself into. 

Nothing had been stolen. A break-in happened, sure - several. If they were generous, they'd just  tell Erwin to set up a camera.

He couldn't do that either. Not without feeling as if he'd made a serious breech of etiquette, of  a shared understanding of anonymity, however one-sided. He was all but convinced that this was someone he already knew, maybe someone trying to make a point. 

It was cheeky, the bed. Presumptuous, too, but not mean. He couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't begin to guess at who it might be.

Erwin filed it away in the back of his mind. He studied in the library until it closed and only then headed home. He kept the drawing in his bag. Spare lines. Rough hand. Efficient. Blunt. 

The next day, he took the other bus again. When he passed the shelter, he put pen to the pad in his hands.

He looked for instructions on his phone and folded his drawing into a dove, and not for the first time wondered why this resident do-gooder wanted to waste his goodwill with Erwin when so many deserved it more.

After an internal review, the dean and the Student Affairs Council absolved Erwin of any disciplinary measures for the Feldman incident. The professor cold-called Erwin in every class from then on. Erwin considered telling him that it defeated the point of catching him off guard when he knew to expect the call every time, but he was sure the man would figure it out eventually.

More than a few students recognized him from the video and offered to buy him lunch. Lily was giving him more hours at the bakery. 

His fingers itched. He folded another dove out of an old essay.

 

-

 

"Ah, so, there's this guy, right? He was actually pretty cool, defended someone from getting chewed out by one of those jackass professor types, I really need to show you the video of it, anyway--"

"'S'is goin' anywhere?" 

They push their glasses up their face and sigh. "I know Kenny's being a bit of an arse right now, but please, please, please, don't take it out on me."

"Hange, I swear to God, just go up to him and tell him these exact words: 'Hey, you know your  _nephew_ , yeah? The one you treat like a piece of shit 'cept for when you want him to steal for you? He says 'Hi, Uncle Kenny, leave me the fuck alone or else I'll find your house and pull every single organ from you while you're still conscious--"

"I'm not sure that's entirely possible, like you'd have to pull the heart out last otherwise--"

"Tell him he needs to go die in a fucking hole then."

"That's rather-- Uh I'm gonna shut up now. That look is terrifying."

Moments pass in silence, then there's the warmth of long limbs around him. "Just... This one last job. And then I'll get him to leave you alone."

"Tch. Like you could."

He takes a walk outside. Fresh air will do him good.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Levi has to count the numbers on his fingers first. "Ten unread messages. What's he want now-- Oh. 'S Izzy."

**Copper Knob: u no hes txting me 2**

**Copper Knob: kenny i mean**

**Copper Knob: wants you 2 go do another job 4 him**

**Copper Knob: i told him ur 2 busy**

**Copper Knob: told him u had 2 heart attacks, an abortion, did Crocs... while u was pregnant**

**Copper Knob: *crack**

**Copper Knob: tho Crocs r jst as bad 4 ur health XD**

**Copper Knob: lol trust autocorrect 2 fuck up an amelie quote**

**Copper Knob: btw that film is brill n u need 2 watch it asap**

**Copper Knob: anyway he hasnt txt back haha**

**Cap'n Killjoy: Thanks.**

Izzy always types in a really complicated way. Takes him double the time to understand how she's 'simplified' things, so he relies on his phone to read the messages out for him. It's difficult, but he gets the gist eventually. Hates the nickname she set for him, though hers is brilliant.

 

"Doves're pretty tricky, 'specially for guys with big fingers like yourself. Not bad at all though." 

He sits on the sleeping bag, quite comfortable with claiming this stranger's house as his own for the time being. Would do it with clothes too, though the man doesn't have anything to wear except for classic dork shit. Old man in a young guy's body - what a fit body it is for someone who eats shit or nothing. 

Sees him most days while he's hiding under his hood. Doesn't want him to phone the police for stalking or shit like that.The drawing might have been the last straw. 

Plays with the doves left behind, doesn't want to unwrap them because they're pretty and surprisingly well made. Adds a couple more, smaller birds like cranes and swans. 

On the way out, he sets down a few cans of soup. Gluten free, just in case Blondie has an intolerance, though if he's lactose intolerant he's fucked - soup has to have cream or whatever in it. Only other ingredients are vegetables though, in case he's vegetarian, and it's chunky with high protein to keep him full. Levi knows what it's like to not have enough to eat, knows well enough that soups like these are a godsend. 

Leaves another picture, this time of the man and his huge eyebrows smiling as he eats the soup - "Eat the soup, you can thank me later." he's trying to say.

Turns and sees what he's left behind, the birds and soup and drawing. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" 

 

-

 

The stiff air nipped at his ears as Erwin huffed through his morning run. It had been long since his last. He couldn't even say how long. He'd been a gym regular and morning jogger for years, so the abrupt stop to it hadn't yielded too much flab on him, but he wasn't in it for appearances. 

He slowed his run to accommodate his stinging lungs. Before, hardly a moment passed before he'd wave to someone or other. He'd know everyone he passed, and waved hello, too, to whomever he didn't. The impulse remained, somewhere inside, far, somewhere beneath a lattice of paranoia and self-pity and whatever else had throttled him since he'd last worn a charcoal suit.

Heart racing, he waved to a passing jogger. They waved back.

Sweat traced the line of his jaw as he stopped cold at the threshold of his flat. When he unfroze, he strode past the additions in his room to gather his towel and clean up in the communal showers. 

This was happening. It was really happening.

His heart kicked up its promised beat when he returned, having politely mellowed while Erwin processed his predicament. Situation. Happenstance. Whatever this was. He was partial to Spontaneous Pen Pal.

He laughed at the drawing and the sound surprised him, all but forced out of him and awkward from disuse. He'd never wondered whether a person could forget how to laugh. 

It was a great drawing, despite the liberties taken with the eyebrows. They couldn't possibly be that large. 

Surely this couldn't be Mike. He couldn't keep up the act this long and blink so owlishly when Erwin intimated here and then that he might have done it. Nor Nanaba, who was far too busy and much too straightforward. But his mystery person knew who he was. He knew his face. 

Erwin rubbed his thumb with his forefinger idly, as if to recall the crackle of that receipt. Neither of them were partial to tea, either. 

He donated all but one of the cans stacked neatly against one wall to the shelter. He bristled at the idea that he must look so desolate as to not have enough to eat, but he was willing to compromise. It wasn't bad soup. 

He rinsed the can, dried it, and slipped the growing flock of swans and doves inside. 

Before leaving for class that afternoon, he set it on the windowsill next to a green tea cupcake he'd picked up at his shift at Lily's.

 

-

 

_So you run, huh? That's probably why you look so damn fit, blondie._

Though he's bordering on stalking, he stays on the bench to watch. Was waiting for him to leave, but it seems it'll take a little longer. 

Given the way the man's legs look running like that, it's not exactly a problem.

 

After a while, listening to the same song on repeat gets boring. He heads home, mumbling along to the whining lyrics of some techno track Hange had put on the phone they'd bought him. Apparently the song reminded them of him. 

At the door stands Kenny, dark brooding looks tucked neatly under a wide brimmed hat and trench coat. Half expects him to talk with some New York accent splashed with Italian, husky voiced from all those cigars. Kenny isn't a 50s film noir detective, though, so when he speaks with his normal voice, it's not a surprise. 

"Why've you been ignoring me, kid? You want me to stop helping your little...  _medical condition_?" 

"Leave me alone." He's bored of Kenny and his games, sick of being his dog. 

Kenny doesn't seem to like that.

 

Heading out later on, he hides under his hood not just because he's going to the flat, but because Kenny thinks it's okay to hit someone who's sworn off violence. The shiner he got doesn't stand out much - there's already deep dark shadows under his eyes. 

Figures he's cutting it a bit fine with his timing, there is a chance the flat won't be empty. But he's had something of a surprise, and now he feels invincible. 

After Kenny had left, Hange and co. had decided to cheer him up a little, shown him the video that Hange'd been talking about the other day, of the guy sassing back to the professor. 

Levi knows the mystery man's name now.

Hange had spoken about him a little, but Levi was too busy trying to keep his excitement to himself. Knows he shouldn't be so overjoyed, but now he has a name for the face he sees, a name for the man he's helping. 

 

Once inside the flat, Levi sits down on the floor for a while. He's just used some of the money he'd saved from Kenny's jobs on making sure that this flat gets heating and whatever else it could need for a month. Turns out he'd saved a lot more money than he'd thought, and although it's a stupid idea, at least it can't be taken back. 

Done enough research to figure out that all payments go to the owner of the block, no problems there. The owner was just glad to see some money. 

His head pounds from having been beaten up a little - a sign of weakness he won't ever admit to. Notices the can of soup, and the cupcake. Eyes narrow - did he eat the soup or not? 

After the initial headrush of standing up, Levi half-staggers over to the window sill. Sees the can is empty save for some origami, and that makes him feel strangely happy. 

The cupcake is a surprise. Apprehension bubbles up inside, is it for him or is  _Erwin_  saving it for later? Why would he put it on the window sill, though, if it wasn't meant as a gift?

"Might as well..." It tastes delicious, the right combination of springy sponge and delicate flavours. Green tea is one of Levi's favourites - Erwin has good taste. He stuffs it in, not wanting to get crumbs everywhere. 

He digs out another receipt from his pocket, to thank him with, when it suddenly clicks. His other receipts have been for tea. That's how Erwin knew. Sometimes Levi forgets other people can actually read better than he can. He smiles just a tiny bit to himself. There's a odd feeling inside because someone had actually taken the time to choose and buy something for him. 

He likes it, even though he usually wouldn't.

The drawing he gives this time errs on the side of risky. He draws himself smiling with the cupcake. Hopes that if they ever cross paths, he'll be unrecognisable without the smile from the drawing. Smiles aren't really his thing. 

At the bottom of the receipt, he risks even more with what he tries writing. 

He has to use his phone, has to say what he wants to write out loud so he can copy down the way the letters look on the screen, but it turns out relatively well. His handwriting is neater than most.

 

_Thanks, Erwin._

_-L.A._

 

There's something that makes Levi want to be friendly towards this guy - aside from his promise to help him out. None of it makes sense and he knows it. But there's a part of him, a large part of him, that doesn't care. 

 

-

 

They know his name. Erwin considered drafting his will.

Maybe that was overthinking it. Sure, they could have found it in the notes lying around the flat. The mailbox downstairs. Asked a neighbor. 

The 'L.A.' was something. The drawing, too, though it was so simplistic that any chance of matching it to his mystery person was near zero. He couldn't even guess at their age or gender, much less anything of substance.

It was getting warm, despite the chill outside. He hadn't paid for heating. He'd have to talk to his landlord.

His concentration was slipping. Not a good look for him in the middle of midterms. Despite the apparent harmlessness of his visitor, his spine crawled at the consistent invasion. They never took anything, only gave. The green stone weighed heavy in his pocket. He shouldn't be doing this. 

He'd given up on needling Mike for fear that he'd want to become more involved, and Erwin couldn't help but feel that this was something he needed to handle alone. 

He turned over the small camera in his hand, having retrieved it from between one of many hairline fractures between a wall and the ceiling. The thing was the size of his thumbnail, its little lens hidden from light by the harsh curl and jut of the old paint. It had been recording since the night he'd donated the bed. He hadn't watched it yet. He didn't know what inspired the reluctance. 

A pen twirled in his other hand, for hours. He wrote a line, then crossed it out. Wrote another, crossed it out, too. Wrote three pages. Threw them away. Twirled his pen. Bit the cap. 

He dropped the camera into his wallet and locked the door before heading out to deliver his midterm case reports.

On the windowsill rested a note. "How are you?" it said. 

 

-

 

"How are you?" they read, before grinning. 

"Why would he--" Makes no sense, that Erwin would want to know  _how_  he is. Why should he care? If anything, he should be asking  _who_  he is.

Hange cackles."He's a nice guy, that's why. I think you'd get along with him if you'd, you know, stop hiding and creeping about his flat. It is kinda romantic, though, if you think about it."  

He just stares at the wall. Not a romance thing, he'd know if he felt that way, surely. 

Emotions aren't his strong point, though. He's been wrong before.

Eventually he sighs. "So, what do I write back?" 

"You write back how you feel, and then you ask for his number or something." They run their fingers through their hair, he feels the grease on his own hand and wrinkles his nose up in disgust.

Leaves a simple reply in the end, a smiley face. Not one that's meant to look like anyone, just two dots and a curved line in a circle. Signs it with his initials and everything, he's not sure why. Maybe he wants to be found out. They say that about serial killers, that they sometimes want to be caught. This could be the same.

Gives a water-bottle this time, one of those sturdy plastic ones that's like a thermos - keeps cool things cool and hot things hot. He figures Erwin might need one on his runs. Levi doesn't exercise, his physical state doesn't permit him to, but he knows that after running, there's nothing better than cold water. 

 

After dropping off the note and bottle, he sits on the bench outside. Sleep has been particularly hard recently, Kenny might be gone from his waking life but he sure as hell hasn't left his dreams, so Levi's exhausted. Somehow he drifts off, though, looking like a homeless person in his oversized clothes and his beaten up face. It's not a bad look, he's comfortable at least. 

 

-

 

Nanaba hummed over the phone. "No, I don't know any L.A. I mean. No one who'd do this sorta thing."

"The video." Erwin realized.

"Oh shit, yeah. Now the whole school knows your name, and then some." She laughed suddenly.

"Not that funny."

"It's pretty funny. Hey, what happened when you ignored them?"

Erwin's brows drew together. "I never...I mean, I always left at least something-"

"Seriously? Every time?"

"It'd be rude not to-"

"They're..."

"I know-"

"-breaking into-"

"I know, Nan-"

"-your apartment..."

"Yes. I'm aware."

"You don't get off on this, do you-"

"No."

"Just checking. I mean, if it were me, I'd be like, camping out at the nearest precinct til they nabbed the guy."

"They don't seem dangerous. Might even be-"

"Don't say it-"

"-a little lonel-"

"-la la la! Can't hear you! Listen, just...be careful."

"Sure."

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear it, but since the funeral, you've been self destr-"

"Goodbye, Nan."

Erwin stepped outside for air. It was chillier than he expected. He shoved his hands into his pockets and bumped into a note with a smiley face. He chased its points and edges as he wandered about under a waning moon.

A bit of movement caught his eye, and when he turned, he found a person occupying a bench nearest the entrance to the nearby park slumped and dangerously close to falling off entirely. He was sliding before his eyes. 

In a surge of something or other that involved no ounce of reason, Erwin bolted across the street and forced a furiously honking oncoming car to swerve before arriving just in time to slide a hand under the person's head and his knee beneath his legs to lessen his fall. Somewhere beneath the tightly-wound scarf and cap and layers of hoods, the man began to stir, and Erwin hurriedly placed him - light as he was - back on the bench before Erwin was made to answer an uncomfortable question or two. 

"I'm sorry-" Erwin said, moving away and holding his hands up in surrender as soon as he was sure the man, now wide awake, wide-eyed, wouldn't fall again. "you were about to fall and I thought, I mean-"

The man was a lot smaller than he expected, hidden as he was in all his layers. Younger, too. His ears and nose were reddened by the chill. He shouldn't be out here. The chill was becoming unbearable. He could die in his sleep.

Erwin switched sharply. "-it's not safe out here. Do you-" He stopped, about to ask him if he had someplace to stay. Clearly not, if he was here. 

He did the mental calculus quickly enough. He had nothing worth stealing, and if it came to the worst, maybe Nanaba was right. Maybe, he thought, as the note in his pocket rustled against a green stone, there were worse ways to die. 

"Do you need a place to stay?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erwin: 35grams  
> Levi: queenofcats

 

Falling, the world seems to be swaying around him like paint down the drain. Feels a body beneath him, too disoriented to panic. Once his eyes open, his heart rate goes through the roof. There's a man, a man was touching him, Jesus fucking Christ. 

Nothing sinister, though. His hands are up, he's talking calmly. And his face... Oh god. It's Erwin. Fuck fuck  _fuck._  But... He stopped him from falling. Should thank him, should smile or something but he can't. 

Sits up straight instead, readjusts his hoods and scarf. It's cold, bitterly cold, but that's not the reason. He wants to hide, like there's a chance Erwin might recognise him. 

Glares at him, eyes roving across his face. Close up, he's actually quite pretty, even though he has a sort of clean cut-Captain America-handsome thing going on from a distance. Levi finds himself becoming more hostile by the moment because of it, like being nice would mean something more. 

Tries to think of a reply to the question. Why can't he just say no? No, he has a place to stay, he has a place of his own. Why is there even any question about it? 

"I..." He frowns deeply, knows he sounds like an idiot. "No, I don't." Sounds angrier than he intended. 

Shuffles along the bench, the urge to say 'Yes, actually' is strong. Just so he knows what Erwin needs, of course, just so he can get a better idea of what this strange man is like. 

"What sort of idiot d'you have to be to ask a stranger to your house? ...could be a serial killer for all you know." Mutters it quietly, but expects a reply anyhow. 

 

-

 

Erwin couldn't help but smile and huff at that. 

"You have a point," he said. He forced down the cloying creature in his throat that nearly answered,  _Well, that wouldn't be so bad either_.

Erwin even found himself disappointed, though not for any philanthropic reason. He was relieved that the man had a home. Why he chose to sleep outside in nearly below zero conditions was beyond him – and none of his business, anyway – but that wasn't what dropped a stone in his chest. 

He wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't sure why there was a note in his pocket with a stranger's smiley face on it, why he couldn't make himself look at the footage he shot. He wasn't sure why he gave the universe every opportunity to do him harm. But he forced his stiffened, numbed hands into his coat pocket and felt a green stone that belonged to his father and Nanaba's tinny words ringing in his ears, and maybe then, he had some idea.

"I, uh...I guess, just...careful out here. It's, uh. Cold." 

Erwin winced as his numbed mouth moved crudely around the already clumsy words. He really had the nerve, didn't he, doling out unsolicited advice to this man while he himself lost feeling in every extremity and shivered like a wet dog. 

He turned and beat a retreat back home, eager to not make an even greater fool of himself in front of perfect strangers. Mrs. Penny probably had something for him to fix. 

  
-

 

Of course he has a point, wouldn't have said it otherwise. Levi's lips turn up slightly anyway, but his eyes lower. Wouldn't want Erwin to think he was actually friendly or anything like that. 

Friendly... 

Why does Erwin seem so eager to talk to a stranger? He acts like they're almost friends, reacts to the idea of serial killers so damn nonchalantly, like they mean nothing to him. Perhaps he has a death wish. Does seem a little reckless, actually, given how he hasn't called the police about having his flat repeatedly broken into. They're not so different, then. 

Looks him up and down quickly, notices how cold he seems, how he has to really push his obviously stiff and numb hands into his pockets. A new item gets added to his future shopping list - gloves. Erwin's large, beak-like nose is just as rosy red as his hands were, his cheeks are ruddy too. A hat and scarf too, then. 

It's weird, though. He must be freezing, but he seems to care more about Levi - practically a stranger. There's something not right about that.

Snorts softly, he smiles a little more. "You think?" Even as he speaks, he sees his breath, white and wispy like cigarette smoke. It's more than just cold, and he pities the people who genuinely are homeless, those who don't have the means to keep warm. 

At least Erwin's heating bills are paid for the month. It's not much, of course, it only helps him while he's at home. But it's a start, at least, although Levi wants to do more. It's not like he can invite him back to his own place, that would be beyond awkward. But maybe... Well, for all anyone knows, Levi really doesn't have a place to go home to. 

In that poky old flat of Erwin's, he'd be able to keep a closer eye on him, see what he needs and try and help him a little more. Won't even begin to analyse the why of it all, why he wants to help so badly and why he feels the need to lie in order to do it, because it would drive him crazy. Instead, he tells himself it's because Erwin has his priorities in the wrong order, clearly doesn't care about himself one bit. He's doing the world a favour, keeping him in check. Swallows quickly, prepares to say something, say anything.

Erwin turns and sets off, though, just as Levi bleats out a pathetic "Wait!" 

The bench receives a frustrated kick, why did he wait so long to speak up?

Fuck. 

Well, at least he knows what to buy him in future. That's something. 

 

-

 

The wind whipped about him and nearly fooled Erwin into thinking the man had said something after him. Erwin was no one to him. Presumptuous, he thought, to expect strangers and passerby to give him a second glance.

His fingers prickled and burned as they regained feeling once he entered his flat. They'll be cracked and sore for weeks. The lock clicked into place. Erwin pulled at his collar. The place was a sauna next to the outdoor chill. He insisted that he hadn't paid for heating, but his landlord wouldn't hear it the last time he tried him. Erwin doubted he'd find success with a second round. 

He stepped indiscriminately across case notes littered across the flat. Some, he knew, he needed desperately to memorize. He sat against a wall and stared across the sea of crinkled pages and felt not even the shadow of panic. Right under his nose, his resolve or discipline or shame or whatever it was that powered his studies had been whittled away by some force he didn't know, a veil he couldn't name. 

He reached for the stone. The green hue nearly vibrated despite the flicker of the old lamp and the streetlights from beyond the window. He pressed it to his chest, yet still was no closer to feeling halfway as worthy to wear it as its last owner. He couldn't name the stone that lay in that leather weave. Millions of its cousins could be swaying in dime store shelves across state lines and he wouldn't be the wiser. It wasn't the thing itself that fired coals in his gut.

Every winning case his father won was with a cut of green on his chest. 

Erwin was faster at the bakery the next morning. The oven burned hotter. The fruit tarts were twice as sweet and chocolate filling poured lazy thick. Before long, their usual bustling morning queues evaporated. Marie teased him from the front desk when he asked Lily if he could experiment a bit, but he didn't mind. It didn't abate when he wrapped up a box for himself of cupcakes infused with everything from earl grey lavender to lemon sweet tea and a bracingly bitter black tea. It did when she tried one. 

Lily stocked new tea inventory with a promise from Erwin to let the public have a try. Erwin wrapped up his box and his double shift. He skipped the afternoon's verbal exam and failed the written portion. The red-splotched exam booklet joined others, though now they were all sequestered in a corner as neatly as was possible for a man much more preoccupied with studying ingredients and recipes from his phone.

Assignments took longer to complete, though page requirements seldom changed. Getting up for morning classes didn't make much sense anymore. 

An earl grey cupcake, a scarf. A sweet tea lemonade slice, a pair of gloves. Erwin left a drawing or two with each pastry. He wasn't sure why. Maybe simply because he could. One was of the bakery's facade. Another was the view from his window. Others, of his classmates, drawn with leisurely strokes in libraries or lecture halls. They were all gone by the time he returned to the flat.

There was one drawing he nearly left on the windowsill each morning before replacing it with another. A drawing of a man he'd seen on a bench. He didn't know anymore whether he imagined the elegant curve of his nose or the arch of his brow. He might have imagined the encounter altogether. It wasn't the strangest thing to happen this year.

He strode through the park on his way to Lily's. The city was smothered in wreathes and lights and red and green. He needed to remember to take something from Lily's holiday party for his friendly ghost.

 

  
-

 

"I'm sorry, Levi. I wish I could have you over, but at the moment, what with all the relatives round, I barely have enough space for myself, let alone you." 

"Nah, it's okay." Shakes his head, looks away. It's better that he doesn't stay with her, for her own sake. He's got too many problems, wouldn't want to drag her into it all. 

"Can I-- Uh, no, never mind." Petra's cheeks tint pink. 

"What?" His voice is gruff from the cold. Sniffs, damn weather makes him sick. 

"I was going to ask if I could have a hug. I know you don't really like being touched, but I feel terrible about what happened to you..." 

Levi frowns briefly, but nods. Petra has always been good to him, even if her reasons are emotions that he can't return. It's the least he could do for her. Plus, he kind of wants to be comforted right now. 

She wraps her arms round him, presses their chests close together. Panics - she can probably feel his heartbeat through his thick layers, his coat, sweater, binder, vest. She can probably feel other things too, things that shouldn't be there. 

Body tenses, not just from panic, but from anticipation. He waits for the words, the sudden realisation, but it doesn't come. 

"I'm so sorry about everything, especially right before Christmas. If you need anything else, let me know. Like, help with buying new stuff, or..." Petra pulls back, offers him a sympathetic smile. He thinks he can see it in her eyes, that she knows, but she doesn't let on. He's grateful, very grateful.

"Don't worry about it." he mumbles, relaxing slightly. "I'll survive."

 

*

 

Ends up hanging around Erwin's flat, wondering what  _he_  would do if it got set on fire and he lost everything. To be fair, he doesn't have much as it is, so it's not like it would matter. The only issue would be accommodation. However,  if, in this hypothetical situation, Levi's flat was still intact, well... They have a spare room, and it's not like Hange, Isabel and Farlan would have had a problem with it. 

Steps click-clack across the path in front of him, break his train of thought. His heart skips a beat because he knows that hat, he knows those shoes. 

No. 

He doesn't, he tells himself, it's not him. 

Shaken nerves mean that every tall, dark man in a long coat is Kenny, every smoker's lighter is ready to be thrown on him, every glowing Christmas light is a fire, come to destroy what little he has left.

At least no one was inside at the time. Isabel had gone back to Hange's hometown for the holidays, and Farlan was at a work conference in a city nearby. Levi had been at a job interview, yet another one he wouldn't get, had come home to see it black and charred. All that's left is the clothes on his back, everything else is gone. 

He knew it was coming, though. No one ditches Kenny and gets off with just a black eye. That's probably why he's taken it so well, because he knew exactly what to expect.

It wasn't like he could have prevented it, though. Kenny's got friends in high places, after all. The police are no help even when confronted with the burnt out shell of the flat, they wouldn't have touched him before. 

So Levi just has to accept it. It's happened, and that's it. 

He hasn't got a bed for the night, no money for a hotel, absolutely nothing at all. 

No reason for him to be here, outside Erwin's, either. It's not like he can help him, not like he could give him a place to stay after that encounter all those weeks ago - the encounter that haunts Levi's dreams and days and every other thought he has. 

Not at all. 

The bench is comfortable, that's it. It's not like he wants to stay the night, and wake up to seeing Erwin baking (he's appreciated every gift he's left behind, tea-infused cupcakes are a genius idea). It's not like he wants to see Erwin drawing, drawing him, perhaps, when he thinks he isn't looking (his sketches are wonderful, naturally better than Levi's own). 

No way. 

Levi is just dealing with shock, of course, the shock of having his flat destroyed by his crazy uncle. Pulls out the note Kenny had left behind for him, the one the police refused to accept as evidence. 

 

_Merry Christmas, bitch._

 

The words are incredibly familiar, Levi doesn't need anyone to read it out for him. They crumple up inside his fist, the closest he'd allow himself to get to revenge. 

That's why he's here, he tells himself. He's waiting because Erwin will be back from work at any moment, and he's probably the only person who can stop him from killing Kenny.

Sniffs again, huddles up inside his coat and scarf. Eyes fall shut, the cold makes him sleepy.

 

-

 

The party was a raucous but heartening thing. Erwin treated the staff with a few experiments he'd prepared for the night and reddened at the surge of compliments.

An hour or two in, Lily gasped suddenly and asked him if he wouldn't check to see if she'd made all the necessary orders for the following month. Erwin assured her it was no problem at all, though his head buzzed, still, at how she trusted him with such things.

He headed into her office and shut the door behind himself. Ordering the missing stock didn't take long. Erwin signed out of her laptop and leaned back in the chair, pinned to it by a thread of melancholy that burrowed into the otherwise perfect evening. He'd been assistant baker for months, then baker, then head baker. He knew all the ins and outs, the ups and downs. Most, if not all, of their clientele knew him. He became indispensable in short order and even if he wasn't, he could take his skills - cultivated nearly by accident out of, initially, a need for income - wherever he pleased.

Erwin picked at the frayed stitching in the arm of the office chair. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to this, to risk caging himself within his own thoughts. 

Or maybe he should be here. Maybe he should admit to himself at last that he couldn't keep pursuing a career soured by his father's death.

Of course Erwin had wanted to see justice. But when the man who had broken into their home had gotten life, Erwin couldn't sleep for a night and then two, and then ten, and then far more than he cared to count. It had been a destitute man, a man with children and debts and illness with a bad tremor and a worse knee. And though he hadn't meant to shove past his father in a fright in the pitch dark and send him tumbling down the stairs, the case had been open and shut. Erwin should have been vindicated, satisfied. Every 'sorry for your loss' from well-meaning bystanders was forever chased by 'at least you got him', as if that was just the balm he'd needed.

It wasn't. Neither would it have been for his father. And when he took a closer look at other cases his father had taken in between failing his own courses one by one and examined all those for which the old man had worn that same green stone, Erwin recalled his father's waning enthusiasm and frequent spats with the attorney general and district judges over three strikes laws and draconian sentencing and a bevy of systematic maladies that Erwin was too stupid or too young or too uninterested to pay mind to when the glamour and the prestige of the profession drowned out all else. It was an uncomfortable truth, and one that his father realized too late. There was no bending the system from within its labyrinthine belly. 

The men and women and all the rest whom he met at Lily's were nothing like the warring law school tribes Erwin had come to expect. Professors ruffled their feathers over pristine pronunciations of centuries-long overturned statutes while good people toiled longer for less. Students dreamed of job security in a criminally oversaturated market in between passing out from exhaustion. 

It was a grand and noble and essential profession. It was all those things, but it couldn't be Erwin's. He couldn't pretend anymore.

The very same patrons who complimented his baking had plenty to say besides - plenty to say of the judges and the police and the school board and the mayor's office and the dainty little park buried between the rising skeleton of luxury condominiums. Erwin listened, and Erwin wrote, and Erwin accepted a contract from a local station to offer them a report or two, or three. 

Erwin signed back into the laptop and removed the camera from his wallet. He attached it to an adapter and plugged it in.

 

When he bid the shop a good night, snow had already begun to fall. No wind disturbed it that night. It simply fell as if dropped from a bucket.

There was a man on a bench.

Erwin only looked this time. And surely he hadn't looked long, yet the man's face turned to him as if he'd felt another's eyes on him.

Erwin did the first thing that came to mind, and waved. He pointed at the box in his hands emblazoned with the shop's name, and then to the coffee shop a block down. 

When the man did nothing, perhaps hadn't even really seen him or simply didn't care, Erwin turned for the shop anyway. The bells on the door rang as he stepped inside. Few were inside but those who came in to escape the cold and warm their hands on red and green cups. Erwin ordered a black coffee, took his seat, and told himself and anyone who might dare ask that he was only doing the same.

The bells on the door rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!


End file.
